


Vermeil

by jenfurlee (orphan_account)



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub, Domestic Violence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 07:26:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/jenfurlee
Summary: An AU exploration of both Fridget and Frerica within BDSM relationships.





	Vermeil

**Author's Note:**

> This work is and will remain unfinished. It is structured as a work in progress. Some chapters are fully formed while others remained outlines. If this format bothers you, simply move on please. I am no longer writing Fridget fiction. If you would like to continue this series, please contact me with your serious inquiries only. Also, no matter what you comment, I am not going to pursue this story. My heart is no longer in it, but I have worked hard on this story and still wanted to share it with readers.

Main Characters 

Bridget Westfall: Forensic psychologist at Wentworth Correctional Facility. Overseas mental wellness of inmates in group and private sessions. 

Francesca “Franky” Doyle: Professional domme. Degree in psychology/photography. Long-term partnership to Erica Davidson. Domme in her professional and personal life. Franky is the one in “control” of the relationship. Sees living together as enough of a commitment. Doesn’t want marriage or children. God complex. Will she pass on her “evil” to her kids? Doesn’t deserve to be loved because of who she is. Franky was badly assaulted by her mother when she was 14 when discovered with a girlfriend. Removed from home into group homes/ward of the state. Worked her way through school in restaurants. 

Erica Davidson: Franky’s long-term partner (3-5 years), lawyer, protects Franky’s “practice” as well as her sub. Pushes Franky to her limits because she is insecure in their relationship. Hides relationship from her family and friends which kills Franky inside. Erica goes to family events alone. 

Song inspiration  
Halsey Control  
Cute is What we Aim For: Navigate Me  
Dirty Heads: Under the Water, Strike Gently  
Motley Crue: Animal In Me  
Sia: And breathe me, Helium  
Nick Jonas: Close ft. Tove Lo  
Maroon 5 Animal  
Indila: Dernière danse  
Linkin Park heavy  
Ruth B Lost Boy 

*************************************************************************************************************  
The house that Bridget arrived at was nothing like what she pictured. She did a double take that the address in bronze letters above the garage were the same ones displayed on her direction app. She’d expected something more dark and ominous, not this quaint two story just outside the city. It was a nice neighborhood, hell, she’d seen two women pushing strollers. It was downright cozy. The only clue that anything other than family dinners took place on the inside was the deep red door. Bridget pondered at the right name to describe the rich tone of color. It wasn't burgundy; it was missing the purple undertones. (Continue color description here) Well, it was now or never.  
Confidently, Bridget strode in her heels towards the front door. Her hair was pulled back into a bouncing ponytail, her bangs falling free around her face. Her heart wasn’t fooled by her cool appearance, the traitor was beating faster with each passing minute. When she lifted her hand to ring the bell, she didn’t even hesitate.  
The figure that answered the door, was also not what she was expecting. She was much younger than Bridget had pictured.The woman was dressed simply in black from her long sleeved blouse to her heeled leather boots. Her large green eyes were painted thickly behind a layer of dark shadow. She was absolutely gorgeous.  
“Ms. Westfall?” she questioned with a smile playing on the corners of her supple lips.  
“Francesca?” Bridget asked in return. None of the e-mails they had been exchanging over the last six months had ever contained a last name. The olive-skinned woman took a step backwards ushering her into the house. The walls were painted in a deep purple color which melted perfectly into the deep black color of the hardwood floors. Lining the walls were numerous large black and white prints of nude women in a variety of poses. The blonde’s eyes couldn't stop from taking in each print, which became more and more sultry the further they continued down the wide corridor. Then suddenly Bridget’s breath was gone as her blue eyes took in the large photo at the end of the hall. A slender woman was bound in the air with intricately tied strands of rope that crossed and knotted along the line of her back and her long, extended legs.  
“Did you do that?” Bridget asked. Francesca nodded.  
“It’s called shibari, Japanese rope binding.” She explained before locating a key to unlock her office.  
“It's absolutely beautiful.” The blonde couldn’t help the way her eyes danced over the woman's nude form.  
The raven-haired woman lead them towards her office. The whole wall behind the small oak desk was lined with books from floor to ceiling. The professional in Bridget swooned at the collection as she tried to read the numerous titles were scrolled across the spines.  
“Why don’t you have a seat?” she motioned towards the plush chair in front her her desk. Bridget quickly complied with her request. The younger woman bit back a smile. This woman could already follow instructions. 

“Tell me why you’re here, Ms. Westfall?” she asked politely, opening the leather portfolio on her desktop.  
“I thought I explained that all in my emails,” she blushed.  
“You did, very well in fact. I need to make sure you’re able to verbalize these desires out loud. It’s one thing to be able to talk about them from behind the safety of a computer screen. I think it’s important that you and I are able to communicate well,”  
“My career calls for a lot of control of my emotions in order to help others,” Bridget began to explain something she didn’t even fully understand herself. Why exactly was she here?  
“You’re a shrink?” the woman smiled until a slight dimple in her cheeks appeared.  
“I’m a forensic psychologist,” Bridget correct.  
“Well, alright then.  
“So since you’re a professional, I don’t think I have to explain the importance of regular therapy sessions between our meetings.”  
“Not at all.”  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Missing Chapter  
\- Choosing a safeword (jasmine, vermeil )  
\- First time Bridget uses it  
\- Bridget cries during a session/scene, pushed too far, gets sick, Franky gets mad at her and suspends their sessions for three months as punishment.  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Bridget had survived two months into her punishment, and it was still radio silence from her Domme. Initially the three month hiatus didn’t seem like it would be too big of a deal. She’d only been seeing her for less than six months anyway, perhaps a short vacation from the heaviness would be good for her. The hardness didn’t take long to settle back into her neck and shoulders, it’s where she carried the stress of her job. Normally she could go weeks before feeling the pinch settle back in. Now without the regular flights away from her troubles, she could feel every ache and pain. She knew reaching out to the Domme would only provide further vindication for the beautiful brunette. And one thing that Bridget Westfall was never going to do outside of that beautiful room was beg.  
She arrived home at the end of another long, quiet week. Although she had visions of crawling into bed early and giving up, her torment wasn’t over. She’d promised to attend a banquet for one of the youth groups she frequented for children of offenders. She even had a speaking role, so feigning illness was out of the question. Instead she readied herself in the blue chiffon full length gown that accentuated the small size of her waist. The delicate fabric took care to drape beautifully over one shoulder, leaving the other on full display. She left her hair down in those loose curls that framed her tanned face so nicely. After one last glance in the mirror as she fasted her earrings, Bridget delivered a short pat on George’s wide head before she slipped out the door. She hoped the night would pass by quickly.  
Attending events with Erica was always one of Franky’s favorite things to do. She relished in the delicate play between the two as Erica fought to balance the two versions of herself. On one hand she was the hot-ass lawyer who got shit done, and on the other she was a perfect little submissive that always sought to please her Domme. Even if it meant sneaking away on the balcony for Franky to whisper in her ear sending her center aching for her touch. It was the perfect type of foreplay. Watching the blonde become more and more flustered sent her soaring into the headspace she craved. Franky wasn’t even quite sure what banquet they were attending that evening. All she knew is that Erica’s onyx colored dress matched the garter underneath perfectly. Her hair was pulled back into a long ponytail that hung down the the length of her deep-cut back. It took every ounce of strength not to start pawing at her in the car as they drove. Franky was eager for the large open space of the banquet hall. Trapped inside a car with nothing but the smell of Erica’s perfume was quickly wearing away her defenses. She was more than ready to go hunting.  
Once they had arrived, Erica’s ice blue eyes sought out jade as she silently asked permission when the tray of champagne came by. Franky’s devilish grin spread across her face quickly.  
“Well aren’t you on your best behavior this evening,” Franky cooed in her ear before rewarding her with a flute of the bubbling liquid. “One and then nothing else but water, understand?” Her eyes hardened slightly.  
“Yes, Franky,” the blonde nodded taking the glass from her grasp, taking a small sip. The two navigated the crowded space as Erica mingled with various cohorts with Franky’s protective hand at her back. Occasionally she’d brush her thumb upwards along the delicate skin just to watch Erica shiver at the touch. While her hands meddled her eyes surveyed the crowd of the event. Lots of old familiar faces that made the rounds of the circuit. Donating sums of money that made even Franky’s head reel all because they could.  
“I’ll be right back.” She kissed Erica’s cheek before giving her a squeeze on the back of her neck. She made her way towards the bar in order to snag a bottle of water, but also to admire her beautiful submissive from a distance. She never liked to drink at these type of things, preferring to keep her wits about her. It made their little game of cat and mouse even more enjoyable. She leaned her elbows up against the bar with her trouser-clad legs planted in her heels. Her eyes locked on target watching Erica’s eyes scanning the faces searching her out.  
“Do you mind if I slip in?” a feminine voice snapped her out of her daydream. Bridget Westfall was the last person she had expected to see this evening.  
“Why, Miss Westfall, it’s been too long.” The smile that crept over her face could have stopped traffic.  
“It has,” she breathed in agreement. Even with the high slit in her dress her cheeks began to flush at the sudden attention. “Do you mind?” she managed to motion towards the bar that Franky was effectively blocking. It wasn’t as if Bridget minded, she could have stayed ogling Franky’s suit-clad form all evening if had been socially acceptable.  
“Let me,” she responded before leaning towards the bartender. The next thing Bridget knew he was pouring a glass of crisp chardonnay. “Eileen Hardy, right?” Franky knew she was right even before the blonde nodded approvingly.  
“Thank you,” Bridget responded with a small smile appearing over her lips as she took the glass into her hand, careful to avoid contact with the brunette for fear she’d burn alive.  
“I feel like we haven’t seen each other in…” Franky tapered off.  
“Two months and five days.” Not that she was counting. Never in her life had Bridget been the overbearing girl who waited by the phone for someone to call. She was too busy off doing her own thing to worry about anyone. But now, here she was, about to do the unthinkable. It didn’t help that her Domme’s hair was pulled down from its standard ponytail, and instead the raven locks flowed freely over her shoulders.  
“Has it really?” Strong brows creased over jade colored eyes. Franky took the opportunity to allow them to glance over Bridget’s bare skin. She had foolishly forgotten how gorgeous the bare skin of those toned arms was. “You look great by the way. What color is that, navy?” she added with a smile.  
“You know very well how long it has been. When are you going to stop this?”  
“When your time is up, which according to you is in about, what, twenty six days?” She played coy well.  
“Francesca, please, I’m...” she reached out to grip the woman’s elbow beneath the tailored blazer. Franky leaned in and brushed a stray hair back behind Bridget’s ear gently.  
“Begging?” the woman finished for her. “Then why aren’t you on your knees in position?” she whispered biting the supple skin of her bottom lip. Her eyes burned brightly on Bridget’s.  
“Here?” The blonde’s cheeks burned brighter at the sultry words. “I can’t-”  
Without another word, Franky’s hand gripped Bridget’s forearm pulling her out of the banquet hall and into the warm evening air of the balcony. She expertly backed the woman into the shadowed alcove where she positioned her arm to cage in her prey. Her other hand parted the slit of the flowing chiffon and held it safely in her hands. Bridget didn’t need any further instruction, she sank to her knees in front of her Domme, her head bowed lower than ever.  
“Please, Francesca,” Bridget breathed out pitifully. She wish she could have brought herself to care. At that moment she would have done anything to feel the woman’s hands on her flesh again.  
“I’ve missed my good girl,” Franky purred out her admiration. She pulled the woman up from her pose and brought her into a biting kiss, her fingers dancing over the delicate skin of her neck. Bridget felt her head begin to spin just as the lights inside began to dim, signalling the crowd to take their seats.  
“I have to go, I’m speaking,” Bridget muttered in a panic. Franky silenced her worries with one more kiss before brushing her hand beneath the slit of the psychologist’s dress, making her gasp.  
“I will lift your punishment if you give me these,” the brunette brushed her hand over the strip of fabric along her partner’s waist. Without hesitation, Bridget slipped the lacy fabric over the curve of her arse, her eyes never once leaving her Domme. Franky took her time using her hands to pull the flimsy material the remainder of the way down those silky long legs. The white thong made its way into Franky’s trouser pocket, out of sight.  
“I’ll see you soon, Miss Westfall,” Franky promised as she swaggered away without another glance backwards. 

The remainder of the evening flew by as Franky found Erica and quickly headed towards their seats. Erica was still sipping happily at what she tried to pass off as her first glass. Franky knew better seeing the blonde trade out her empty just before she had finally spotted her stalking Domme. She decided to let the woman wait it out until they were on the way home. That way she'd think she'd gotten away with it. She'd really like to work out some of the frantic energy pulsing in her hands as she pawed at Bridget’s knickers in her pocket.  
Then the woman gracefully took the stage without an ounce of shame painted anywhere near her face. If Franky didn't know any better, she would have sworn it was a completely different person, the way she was glowing under the soft lights. She spoke eloquently without a single misstep. Bridget Westfall was soaring high on that stage without a stitch of clothing under that sultry gown. Then finally nearing the end of her speech, Bridget’s crystal eyes found her in the audience. “In conclusion, I’d like to leave you all with a quote, ‘Being brave isn't the absence of fear. Being brave is having a fear and finding that way through it.” She wrinkled her nose ever so slightly before she exited to the left of the stage and leaving the banquet hall. Cheeky minx.  
“Got to use the ladies,” Franky patted Erica’s knee before she ducked out of her seat towards the exit into the nearly deserted corridor. She found the woman on a quick walk towards the restrooms when she followed her in and locked the door behind them. A quick scan of her eyes told her that the stalls were all empty, and no one was there to interrupt.  
“That was spectacular, Miss Westfall,” the brunette pressed the smaller woman onto the pristine marble countertop. “I think you’ve earned a reward,” without any further instruction, the Domme used one hand to hold Bridget’s arms tightly behind her back. With her other hand, she unfastened the delicate leather of her belt and used it to secure the woman’s hands behind her back. Bridget’s heart throbbed in her chest at the speed of it all. The rush of speaking in front of the crowd completely bare, had left her head reeling.Now being bound and in her Domme’s hands couldn’t have pleased her more. Franky allowed her fingertips to run the length of Bridget’s restrained arms. “Look at yourself,” she commanded, using her hips to grind against the woman’s full arse. Her mouth dropped open to allow the small moan to escape, but Bridget’s eyes quickly flew up to look at herself in the mirror. She was not prepared for the reflection she saw staring back at her. “Did it turn you on being up there in front of all those people without these?” Franky asked as she pulled Bridget’s slip of underwear from her pocket.  
“Yes!” Bridget nodded, her breath coming in even pulls.  
“You are such a good girl,” she praised using the tip of her toe to spread Bridget’s legs a little further. Her hand made the long trek from the over-sensitive skin of Bridget’s inner thigh to her quivering sex.  
It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Franky to realize how turned on her beautiful blonde was after her evening of impromptu training. Her slender fingers were coated in Bridget’s wetness as she purposefully ran the length of the woman’s slit without paying any attention to her clitoris. Instead Franky focused her attention on using the tip of her finger to circle over her entrance. Seeking the sweet feel of fullness, Bridget pressed herself downwards onto the digit as she pushed herself back against Franky tighter. She could feel the Domme’s hot breath moaning over the bare skin of her neck. She knew the blonde in her hands was only a few more strokes away from her impending orgasm. She cupped her hand over the woman’s excited sex using her palm to rub over her sensitive clitoris.  
“Permission!” Bridget gasped at the added pressure. She ground her hips as much as her limited range would allow.  
“Not yet,” Franky responded with a twisted smile on her face. Bridget’s bound hands clawed against her pants trying to gain any leverage she could to stave off her climax. “Fight it,” the Domme commanded making eye contact with her sub through the fogging glass of the mirror in front of them. Bridget bit her bottom lip harshly trying to hold back her scream. She felt the slow and powerful throbbing in her centre slowly shoot upwards towards her navel. She was left with her toes on the edge of the cliff, almost ready to topple over to the unknown. Her dress had fallen down her shoulder to reveal an obscene amount of cleavage. Her mind told her to be scared of the sensations her body was experiencing, but the only thing Bridget was able to focus on was pulling in solid pulls of air in through her nose and out through her mouth. “Look at me,” the low voice purred into her ear, forcing her eyes to focus on her Domme’s jade colored eyes through the mirror. “Let go.” The match was lit as Franky’s hand worked Bridget through her powerful climax, using her free hand to wrap around the small waist of her submissive to keep her upright.  
Franky’s hands stayed on her overheated skin until she was absolutely positive she would remain standing without her support. She quickly unlinked her belt from Bridget’s arms. Bridget couldn’t help but notice her fingers were still tingling slightly. The brunette had them under the cool stream of the sink in no time.  
“Leave ‘em there, it'll help,” she instructed before using the other sink to wash her own hands. She used her damp fingers to smooth back the few out of place strands of her hair. As she watched her her rethread her belt through her trousers, Bridget felt a wave of serenity wash over her skin. It was almost as if she was watching herself in a dreamlike state. There was no way the woman reflected back was the same Bridget Westfall who had entered. Her cheeks radiated brightness. She looked freshly fucked, and she didn't care who knew it.  
“Coming back down to me, little kite?” The grinning brunette snapped her from her thoughts as she inspected Bridget’s forearms. The psychologist hadn’t realize how tightly she had pulled against her restraints until she saw the red lines of color.  
“Shit,” she murmured.  
“Not to worry,” Her Domme shrugged off her tailored blazer and draped it over Bridget’s shoulders. She used the tips of her fingers to lift Bridget’s chin upwards enough to meet her eyes before they swiped a fallen piece of hair back into place. Franky’s lips danced over hers in one more passionate embrace that ended much too soon. She quickly tucked Bridget’s discarded underwear back into the safety of her jacket pocket around Bridget’s form. Franky unlocked the door before holding it open for Bridget to step back out into the dimly lit corridor. The thundering applause from the banquet hall keyed the women on the fact that the presentation had ended. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck tingle as Erica’s dark eyes locked on her’s from across the long corridor. She looked positively green with envy. Franky led Bridget towards her with a careful hand placed on the small of her back.  
“Hello, darling,” Franky greeted the seething blonde with a kiss on the cheek and stroking the small of her back delicately. Her hand stayed there while Erica became flustered at the attention in front of the large crowd. Her eyes darted Franky knew that they’d all had a enough glasses of champagne to not give a fuck how she chose to touch the gorgeous blonde. Bridget couldn’t keep her eyes from bulging at the sight. Erica Davidson was absolutely lethal in the legal field. She’d been on the receiving end of a few subpoenas from Erica’s firm, and even in emails she seemed like a heartless bitch. “This is-”  
“Ms. Westfall.” The woman in black responded allowing her eyes to scan over Bridget’s form.  
“Hello again, Ms. Davidson.” Franky’s lips curled into a smile at the corners as the realization finally clicked. Holy fuck, they knew each other? She raised her eyebrows towards Erica expectantly.  
“Our paths have crossed a few times,” the tall blonde explained quickly, her eyes remaining hardened on the lighter blue tone of the woman in blue. She’d thankfully left the part out about Bridget referring to her as a “heartless bitch” during their first encounter. Now here they were face to face with Franky’s leather trimmed blazer placed over the little blonde’s shoulders. If Erica didn’t know any better, she’d say Bridget had looked like a cat that just ate the whole fucking canary.  
“Well, they really mean it when they say Melbourne’s finest…” Franky nodded towards  
the blondes. 

*************************************************************************************************************  
Bridget was downright giddy when she received the email confirmation for her next session with Franky the following week. Her heart swelled with a sense of twisted pride at the sheer excitement that her time with franky at the gala had caused. The professional woman she normally was would have never allowed any sort of activity to take place at a work event. Her reddened forearms remained as a souvenir that the sultry events actually took place.  
Franky could hardly believe the increase in Bridget’s demeanor since their first session. From the moment she entered the home, it was as if she was already in her role. The blonde seemed centered and ready. It took no time for Franky to drag the long zipper down her dress as Bridget allowed herself to be stripped bare by the Domme’s nimble hands. Bridget didn’t need to be told to fall to her knees with her head bowed.  
“That’s perfect, Ms. Westfall,” she praised with a gentle caress of the woman’s cheek. “What are your words?”  
“Jasmine and Vermeil.” Her eyes never once raised from Franky’s boot-clad feet.  
“Good. I’d like to continue to work on following directions today,”  
“Yes, Madame,” her voice was no more than a whisper.  
“In bed, on your stomach… Now,” Franky commanded in a low tone. Bridget stood and climbed onto the leather mattress, the material cooling her already heated flesh. Once she was settled, Franky wrapped the leather cuffs around her wrists before linking them behind her back. Her cheek pressed against the soft pillow. Franky pressed another pillow under her hips raising her up on her knees to present the curved shape of her arse. She then secured her at the ankles. The blonde squirmed slightly feeling exposed to the world. “Are you comfortable?” Franky asked snapping her back. She nodded into the pillow unable to open her lips. She heard the air cut before she felt the sting against her left arsecheek. She gasped loudly feeling the surge of pain shoot through her body. “I asked you a question, Bridget.”  
“Yes!” She panted. Her right cheek was greeted with a matching mark.  
“Yes, what?” the Domme demanded.  
“Yes Madame!” Her hips tried desperately to rock against the pillow under her hips seeking any relief from the throbbing pain under her sensitive skin.  
“Good girl,” Franky praised as she ran her hands over Bridget’s firm arse to soothe the stings left behind by her riding crop. The lightly tanned skin had already started to blush. Her sub’s back was arched as she presented herself skywards unconsciously. She was absolutely stunning, it was almost a shame not to just reach down and take her already moistened slit. Even so soon, Franky knew she would have her no more than a few strokes away. Focus Doyle, she warned herself. Quickly, she shook the feeling and grasped the silk tie laying on the table nearby. She tied it over Bridget’s eyes, eliciting a tiny whimper as the black fabric shut out the world. Trying to ease her nerves, Franky’s slender hands set to work rubbing any tension from the woman’s back and legs. Her skin was so impossibly soft against her palms as she massaged the blonde delicately. Her breathing sunk into a rhythm while her Domme continued to soothe away the worry in her muscles. Once she had lulled the woman back into a state of peace, she wrapped her hand around the leather handle of the crop before running it along the inside of Bridget’s thighs. The brunette swore she could see the hair raise on the back of Bridget’s neck.  
“You have eight more, understood?”  
“Yes, Madame,” Bridget nodded her head feeling her heart pound anxiously in her chest. 

**Franky continues to strike Bridget with the crop seven more times, miscounts by one**

Bridget panted, her hands clenched into fists as she waited for the last sweet sting to strike her. But it never came.  
“Please,” the blonde whimpered anxiously while her hips arched up higher into the the air seeking out the crop. “More,” she spoke before the thought processed in her brain. All Bridget knew was she wanted the painful throb that came when the leather came into contact with her heated skin.  
“Excuse me?” Tsk, tsk, Ms. Westfall, you were doing so good, Franky thought.  
“You missed one,” Bridget’s body was rigid as she waited for any sense of movement from her Domme. Had she really gotten so caught up in listening to the little gasps and moans escaping the woman’s mouth that she fucking miscounted? Amateur move, Doyle. Her blood boiled at the fact that the beautiful blonde had thrown her off her game.  
“Are you saying that I cannot count properly?” she spat her words harshly.  
“No, Madame,” Bridget shook her head, her body squirming in its ties.  
“Then why not, just to be safe, you count these next ten aloud.” Bridget nearly squealed with excitement. “I wouldn’t want to miscount again.” The first few strokes came rhythmically with a few seconds between them allowing Bridget to pull air into her longs to prepare for the next one.  
“Un, deux, trois,” the blonde was counting aloud in French while a slight smile ticked across her face. With hardly any time to catch her breath, the next two strikes were harder and closer towards the sensitive skin of her thighs. 

Bridget goes to subspace  
After care, clingy bridget, pieces of dark chocolate  
Franky makes dinner for them  
Bridget goes home, promises to text/call, gets distracted and falls asleep on the couch  
Franky panics, calls repeatedly, starts to drive there  
Bridget calls “I dozed off, I’m so sorry, I can't Imagine how worried you were.”  
“I thought you were in a ditch.”  
"I'm so sorry."  
"Goodnight, Bridget. I will see you next month."

*************************************************************************************************************  
One month later, the blonde dressed simply in a white cotton dress knowing that was her Mistress’ weakness. The lingerie underneath would only further push her over the edge, Bridget silently prayed.  
When Franky answered the door, she hardly even made eye contact with Bridget before opening the door and ushering her inside.  
“Hello, Madame,” the psychologist purred with a coy smile. Franky’s remained almost stoic.  
“This way Bridget.” The tall brunette walked quickly towards the red door at the end of the corridor. “I’d like you to take that off before we enter, please,” she nodded her head towards the blonde. Bridget complied instantly allowing her trembling hands to unbutton her dress and let it fall in a halo around her. Her Domme’s eyes darkened instantly as the white lace of her knickers came into view.  
“Our focus this session is on practicing restraint.”  
“You can tie me up-”  
“Not that kind of restraint, you sweet thing.” Franky smiled devilishly. “I meant being able to control your urges; prudence.”  
“Yes, Franky.” She nodded, slightly confused at what acts lay ahead of her on the other side of the door.  
“When I open the door, I want you in position, with your hands in your lap and your head bowed. Do you understand?”  
“Yes, Mistress,” Bridget nearly panted as she received her first instructions in three months. 

Bridget enters the room, takes position. Franky ignores her entirely, instead favoring another sub restrained against the raised bed.  
Sub is “such a good girl.” Franky rewards her with several climaxes while Bridget listens on silently.  
Afterwards, Franky dismisses Bridget without a single touch (except maybe a hair tucked behind the cheek? Bridget, of course, leans into it, desperate for the attention.  
Franky: “You’re dismissed.”  
Bridget breaks down in the hallway, apologizes, Franky kisses her roughly her against the door, unable to resist.  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Franky and Bridget into each other getting food on a holiday. Erica is away at her family’s home, Franky alone.  
Bridget invites her back to her home “You have a cat… and books,”/”  
Play scrabble together (later words with friends)  
Use cacophony, “The sound of Francesca…”  
“Call me Franky,”  
Bridget tries to kiss her, Franky holds her back fingers touching lips “I can't”/”I know”  
Franky goes to leave, comes back and kisses Bridget  
Have “vanilla” sex, Franky is falling for Bridget  
Franky excuses herself to bathroom, washes her face, cries, Bridget tries to come in and she tries to hide it  
Bridget: “It’s a natural reaction. Your emotions react unpredictably after a surge of endorphins” Franky: “Don’t you think I know that?", leaves.  
*************************************************************************************************************

Before their next session, Bridget had held an uneasy feeling in her stomach as soon as Franky answered the door silently, and lead her to the crimson room. Already laid out along the black leather cushion were various lengths of rope. But again, that ache got the best of her and she proceeded to undress and sink to her knees in front of Franky’s tall form desperate to feel the woman's hands on her again. She rested her hands against her thighs and dipped her chin until it nearly touched the bare skin of her chest. Gently, Franky’s palm brushed over her long blonde locks secured in her ponytail.  
“Look at me,” Franky commanded. The blonde’s eyes looked up through her eyelashes into the dark jade ones of her domme. Franky’s palm continued its soft caress until it landed on Bridget’s cheek, thumb dancing over her bottom lip. They stayed with eyes locked for what felt like ages to the blonde woman. What did she see when she looked back at her? Franky tossed her chin in the direction of the bed. “In position, Bridget,” she stated taking her hand away from the woman’s face. She missed the gentle touch already.  
“Yes, Madame,” Bridget whispered before she climbed onto the leather mattress in the same position she had taken on the floor. Franky’s boots clicked against the hardwood as she paced around each side of the bed, taking her all in. The anticipation in these moments made Bridget’s stomach flutter. She could only imagine what ideas Franky was planning in that mind of hers. Finally her hands moved to grab the rope from in front of her beautiful sub. She took Bridget's hands from their position on top of her thighs and brought them around to extend the length of her back leaving the front of her body completely at her Madame’s mercy.  
She set to work silently, beginning with those delicate wrists while the blonde sank into rhythmic breathing. The feeling of constriction continued to heighten as Franky’s nimble fingers pulled and tied the ropes tightly. The binds were tighter than any of their previous sessions, but Bridget continues to pull deep, even breaths into her lungs. Franky finally made her way towards the exposed front of her, and began wrapping the ties intricately over her breasts until she could feel a hitch in her breathing. The rope now prevented her from taking in a full deep breath into her bound lungs, but still she remained still with her eyes cast down. The brunette pulled her long ponytail back, extending the line of her chest even further. Her jade eyes had darkened significantly as they took her in. She leaned in brushing her lips from Bridget’s ear, continuing across her jawline before placing a kiss on the corner of her lips.  
“That's my good girl,” she cooed softly. Normally the praise would have sent Bridget's head swooning into another world. But the sweet smell of alcohol on her Madame’s breath was enough to rip away any of her previous delight. Her body suddenly tensed in fear.  
“Vermeil,” she muttered, feeling the walls closing further in around her.  
“You're okay,” Franky tried to soothe her with a gentle caress.  
“Vermeil! I want them off, I can’t breathe,” she panicked pulling against her bindings. She wanted to use her hands to push the woman away, afraid to continue. Tears had slowly formed at the corners of her eyes. The terror in her voice was enough of a clue for Franky to realize her sub was serious. She quickly fumbled in a drawer of the black bureau searching for her pair of medical scissors to no avail. Fuck. Instead she pulled a sharp blade from its drawer and sliced the bindings over her chest quickly. She gasped at the sudden ability to breathe with no struggle. The brunette then sliced the lines over her hands. Clumsy and moving too quickly, on the removal of the last knotted restraint, the knife pierced Bridget’s flesh causing her to yelp at the unexpected pain.  
She was off of the mattress and near the closed door in seconds. Fight or flight. Franky stood by with the sharp blade still gripped in her right hand. Bridget’s heart throbbed in her chest.  
“Have you been drinking?” She demanded, her hand held over her injured flesh. Franky’s eyes went wide when she say the few droplets of blood trailing down towards the skin of her elbow.  
“I am so sorry,” she began to apologize. The knife fell to the floor as Franky covered her mouth in shame. She moved to step forward to survey the damage she'd caused.  
“Don't come any closer,” the blonde demanded holding her hands up in front of her. Her left palm was coated in a thin layer of blood. Franky nodded, and paused her movements.  
“Please may I look at your arm? It needs to be cleaned and dressed.”  
“I'm fully capable of doing that myself,” she fired back. She moved towards the small refrigerator tucked in the wall of dark shelves and retrieved a bottle of Gatorade before placing it in Franky’s shaking hands. “Drink this, and sleep it off. I’ll be by to check on you in the morning.” She pulled on her clothes, not caring how she looked.  
“Gidge…” Franky whispered with her face contorted with emotion. Bridget knew if she stayed, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from wrapping the woman up in her arms. What was going on in that mind of hers? She settled on a reassuring touch against the soft skin of her elbow.  
“I will see you tomorrow, Francesca,” she promised into those pained green eyes. The brunette managed to nod quickly before Bridget was out of the room and into the safety of her car. Quickly she pulled some napkins from her glovebox to stunt the bleeding of her arm. On autopilot, her body went through the motions of driving until she was deposited safely at her home. It was only then that the wall finally hit her. Unconsciously the tears began as she sobbed painfully in her driveway. The trust that had taken the domme and sub so long to build was disrupted. Not once had Franky ever given her a reason to feel unsafe even in the most intense scenes they had performed.  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Bridget comes back the next day to check on her, Franky in a state of utter depression, totally unlike her normal demeanor of control. Messy appearance.  
Franky tries to give her an out on their contract, Bridget forgives her as long as she doesn’t do it again and talks to her about why it happened  
Franky promises to talk if Bridget goes to a doctor, she tries to refuse  
Franky takes her into the GP her clients see, has to get a few stitches and antibiotics  
GP gives her a lecture, “This is sloppy work”, Bridget tries to defend her,  
Doctor pulls Franky into the next room to scold her “You know better than this,”  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Franky invites Bridget to Tahiti on Holiday after Erica cancels on her  
Build connection after mistrust  
Argue on the way home, Franky finally has cell service on a layover and immediately texts Erica.  
Bridget: "I kind of don't want to go back to the real world. I think I could spend the rest of my like as your sub."  
Franky: Completely misses everything Bridget says, hurts her deeply  
Bridget furious, flight massively delayed, prolonging their togetherness  
Bridget gets her bag and doesn't wait for Franky.  
Bridget cancels two sessions in a row, Franky begins to miss her  
Franky writes letter apologizing for being insensitive and sends flowers with the invitation to her University graduation.  
Franky graduates with degree in photography, Bridget shows up to watch her walk.  
Takes Franky it to dinner to celebrate, Bridget gets her an Leather camera bag and camera strap embossed with her initials.  
Franky: “Well, you know how much I love leather.” …  
Bridget: ”Yes...Madame.”  
Franky gets tipsy and opens up to Bridget, Bridget drives her home. Franky asks her to stay, Bridget doesn't think it's a good idea...guarded since vacation  
Franky: "It's still my graduation, Gidge. Come have vanilla sex with me in my real bed… that's all I want.”  
In Franky's proper bedroom, they make love, Franky admits she loves her/falling for her.  
Franky tries to distance herself from Bridget afterwards, embarrassed about what happened.  
*************************************************************************************************************  
Erica had been alone in Franky’s home many times throughout the course of their years together. But it wasn’t normally under the current circumstance of Franky running to check on one of her pets. No matter how many reassuring words and touches the brunette could give, the thought of Franky touching anyone in the same manner set Erica alight with jealousy. As if she had any right as her wedding ring was buried in the coin purse of her wallet. But that was different. Any reminder that the woman’s life continued on when she wasn’t there was upsetting to the blonde. An errand that the she’d promised would only take an hour or two had stretched into four. Erica lay awake in the large bed, as her imagination sprinted wildly through the acts that her Domme could be committing to that fucking psych. Unable to control her thoughts any longer, she headed downstairs to raid the well stocked liquor cabinet and proceeded to pour herself a glass of the scotch Franky had purchased her for their second anniversary. How the woman could remember, she didn't know. Yet year after year she continued to surprise and delight Erica with such thoughtful gifts.  
She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to pull the spare set of keys from their hiding place behind the silverware organizer. Then suddenly she was down the long hallway towards the woman’s office. It had always been off limits to the sub, a part of Franky that she was unwilling to share with her. But now with these thoughts rushing through her head, Erica was convinced her actions were warranted. The key slid easily into the lock and the door popped open revealing the dark images hooked on a length of rope that was suspended across the room. Her bare feet moved forward, propelled by another force until she was able to see each printed image clearly was not of her. Bridget Westfall. She was absolutely stunning in the black and white photographs with her lithe body constricted into various positions. It was no wonder Franky couldn’t resist capturing her the way her tanned skin played with the lightness of her cream colored knickers. The photos progressed into more advanced positions the further she continued down the line until her blue eyes fell on the last few. The fit blonde was lifted horizontally with her arms bound in beautiful braids linking her forearms together behind her back. Her legs were parted, one bound at the knee and the other was extended high into the air. Both were pointed towards the sky like a dancer. She recognized the position well. She plucked the photo from its clip in order to take a closer look. Bridget’s face was painted in absolute euphoria. The blonde’s eyes were closed, and her lips parted. Her even breaths would be the only sound in the room, aside from the clicking of the camera. The last time Erica had fallen into such a deep trancelike state during a scene had left her awakening in the hospital with a tearful Franky at her bedside.  
“What do you think you’re doing, Miss Davidson?” the low voice ripped her from her swirling thoughts. “This area of the house is off limits to you, and you know that.”  
“You lifted her?” Erica turned back to see her Domme with nostrils flared and fists clenched.  
“Erica, get out, now,” she commanded, dropping their act. The blonde stayed planted with the photograph in her hand.  
“Just tell me,” she begged.  
“Yes.”  
“You said after what happened you’d never do it again. You promised me.”  
“I said I would never suspend you again.”  
“Oh, but Bridget who’s been subbing for you for just a year can? You didn't suspend me for three fucking years.”  
“I will never talk about other subs with you, and you know this.”  
“Other subs! Is that why you went to check on her?” her grip on the photograph clenched tighter. She could her her heartbeat pounding in her ears.  
“Erica, I’m warning you. Please get out of my space.” The normally calm tone of the domme’s voice was wavering. She was hovering with her toes on the edge of her normally calm demeanor.  
“Just answer the question!” She screamed.  
“Yes!” The brunette snarled back to her lover.  
“Are you fucking her out of scenes?” When she asked, Franky fell silent. “When?”  
“Once at that gala, again on Christmas Eve when you were at your parents...and again after my graduation,” she confessed.  
“Are you fucking insane?” The voice leaving Erica’s lips was not her own. This one was painted with hysteria. “How can you do this to me?” Franky’s jaw was lined with tension at the accusation.  
“I am going to call you a ride home. I promise we can discuss this tomorrow. We are both upset. If I can’t control my emotions, you know what that does for us.” She replied calmly. Her even voice only served to fuel Erica’s anger further.  
“So you’re just going to kick me to the curb and move onto her? Trade up to a more fun model? Seems only fitting she's a shrink,” she brought her other hand onto the picture. “Maybe she can help you figure out what the fuck is wrong with you.” Erica couldn't stop poking forward.  
“I’m warning you, Erica.” Franky’s eyes were hard and her jaw clenched. In one swift movement the blonde tore Bridget’s photograph in two before letting them fall to the floor at Franky’s feet. Snap. Suddenly her control was gone, and the switch was flipped. Franky’s long fingers gripped the blonde hair at the base of her skull. Then her free hand found its way around Erica’s neck, placing pressure there to stunt, but not cut off, her breath. The Domme pulled her roughly down the hall, not caring if the woman stayed on her feet or not. All reason was gone when she pushed her over the cliff. Once they reached the common area of the living room, Franky deposited her roughly on the faux fur rug beneath her feet. Franky raised her hand high in the air threatening to strike. Her wild green eyes caused Erica to kick her way backwards until she was rested against the plush arm chair on the far side of the room. She shielded her face with her arms. Franky’s hands struggled to find anything in sight, her fingers settling on the blue seaglass vase nestled on the coffee table. It was against the wall in seconds shattering loudly into a thousand splinters. Franky’s feral yell boomed throughout the house, shaking the high ceiling. Suddenly Erica was catapulted into another world as her fear consumed her. The brunette left the room swiftly slamming the bedroom door so hard that the wooden floors shook beneath Erica’s feet. She stayed curled up defensively against the soft chair when her body began to shake uncontrollably. Exhaustion set in almost immediately as she allowed her head to rest back against the cushion. From a distance, Erica could hear Franky making a quick muttered phone call in the bedroom. Time stopped for Erica.  
“Hey Erica? Can you hear me?” Bridget carefully took a few steps towards the trembling woman. When the honey blonde didn't respond, she announced: “I'm going to come towards you now. I'm on your left.” She tip-toed across the room until she was standing in front of the slim form curled up against the fauteuil, and crouched. She took her time to take in the woman's appearance. She was pale and shaking uncontrollably. Her eyes were refusing to focus on anything, as if she was staring at something in the distance. Erica seemed miles away.  
“Erica, I think you're in shock. I'm going to wrap something around you to keep you warm, okay?” A soft whimper was all she got in response. At least it was proof Erica had heard her, hopefully. Bridget's eyes scanned the room in search of anything she could drape over the woman's slim frame; a blanket, a sweater, anything. However, the room seemed devoid of anything suitable. Shaking her head, she took off her own scarf and the cardigan she'd hastily grabbed from the back of her couch when she'd gotten the call from Franky, and wrapped both around Erica.  
“I'm going to find something better; something warmer, okay? In the meantime, you stay here. You're safe here.” Getting up, she walked around the house, softly calling Franky's name. Suddenly the brunette’s face peeked around the corner of a door.  
“How is she?” the domme asked. ‘Domme’ was an interesting way to describe her currently, Bridget thought to herself. A domme would never and should never frighten their soumise to the point where they are paralyzed with fear. Ignoring the question, she asked: “Do you have a blanket or something to keep her warm?” Franky blinked, then she replied: “Yeah, of course.” She disappeared into the room, and after some ruckus reappeared with a soft throw in her hands.  
“Would this work?”  
“Yes.” Bridget snatched the blanket out of Franky's hands and went back to the living room, commanding as she left: “Stay there. She's scared. Of you.”

As she approached Erica again, she observed that the trembling had gotten worse. Bridget’s medical knowledge wasn't very detailed, nor was it up to date, but the few semesters she had spent in nursing school before she decided she wanted to become a psychologist had taught her enough for situations like these. She could hear her instructor's voice in her mind: ‘In case of shock, trembling is good. Trembling means the body is trying to warm itself up. A completely still body with hypothermia is bad news.’ Bridget wasn’t sure what Erica’s temperature was, but she was much too cool to the touch for her liking. Carefully, she cocooned the woman in the throw. It was big; it was warm. It smelled of Franky, she noticed. Hopefully that would help settle Erica’s mind. 

It seemed like it took hours for the trembling to stop. In reality, rationally, Bridget knew it had been seven minutes and fifty seconds, with thanks to her watch. She watched carefully as Erica seemed to return to planet Earth. Franky had listened to her and so far hadn't dared to show her face outside of the bedroom she had sought her refuge in.  
“Oh great, it's you.” The sarcastic, sighed comment pulled Bridget out of her thoughts. Erica was staring at her. The moment Bridget looked back into deep blue eyes, the other woman hid her face in the soft fabric of the blanket. “I can’t believe she called you,” Erica muttered. “Why you?”  
“I don't know why me, Erica, but right now I'm here because I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Bridget replied truthfully. She suspected Franky called her because of her profession. Who better to call when you've scared one soumise into a state of shock than your other soumise who just happens to be a psychologist, right? She doubted Franky knew about her background in nursing. She hoped Franky had called her because she was the first one on the brunette’s mind, because Franky cared for her. It didn’t matter. She was here now, and Erica obviously needed someone to lean on.  
“Would you like some tea?” she asked. The body burns through its reserves when it's in an acute stress reaction. Erica could do with some fluids, and the tea would help warm her system up. Erica looked like she was about to protest, but eventually she sighed and nodded.  
“Yes.” 

Nodding in acknowledgement, Bridget walked straight towards the kitchen. Within no time, she returned to the living room with two mugs of hot tea, along with milk and sugar.  
“I wasn't sure how you take yours,” she explained as she placed one mug in front of Erica.  
“Don't you know your way around,” the other woman snidely commented, snatching two sugars from the serving tray, Franky's fucking favorite serving tray, she realized. Choosing to ignore the sneer, Bridget asked: “How are you feeling?”  
“How do I know you're not trying to poison me?” Erica asked, her voice dripping with venom. Bridget sighed and set her mug down.  
“Listen, Erica, if I wanted to hurt you, I would've let you get hypothermic here. I would've left, instead of rushing over here in the middle of the night to come check you over, fetching you a blanket and going through the trouble of making you tea. You're wearing my clothes underneath that blanket, for fuck’s sake!” She motioned at the scarf and jacket that were still wrapped around Erica’s form. Erica swallowed and cast her eyes to the floor.  
“But,” Bridget continued, “you have a choice here. I leave, or I stay until either you or Franky ask me to leave. It's up to you.” She laid her hands on her upper legs with her palms turned skywards, in a show of vulnerability. Erica was silent for a few seconds before she commented: “Your tea is getting cold.” Nodding, Bridget took the mug in her hands and let a sip of the warm liquid soothe the raw feeling in her throat. There was a truce, for now. They both sat in comfortable silence as Erica slowly thawed. Bridget noticed that her eyes were no longer the vacant blue that she had seen on her arrival. A bit of color had even returned to her high cheek bones. Seeing Erica a nearly comatose shell of a person caused her to wonder, was this what she looked like when she came down from that high? And was that the look that Franky craved to see? 

Franky looked like a child who had been banished to their room with no promise of dessert when she finally poked her head out of hiding.  
“Wasn’t planning on this being the first time I have both of you here, if I'm being honest.” Franky’s humor hid the actual concern she felt at the base of her throat where that stupid lump had developed. When she had seen the fear in Erica’s eyes, she knew she had royally fucked up.  
Both Erica and Bridget did look up from their tea. Franky swore she could see the tension settle back into Erica’s spine as soon as she had spoken. Fuck. It would take at least six months to a year to get her back. Franky tentatively took a few slow steps forward, careful to approach in Erica’s line of sight. Instinctively Bridget felt Erica’s hand reach out and take hers for comfort.  
“Erica, can I please talk to you in private for a moment?” Franky’s tone was much more sincere than before. Bridget could see how her docile tones were already hypnotizing the blonde beside her. Before Erica could open her mouth to respond affirmatively, Bridget stood, separating the pair of them.  
“I don't think enough time has passed. I think I should drive Erica home now." After a moment, Franky nodded in agreement. 

Car ride  
Erica: “You know she's never said ‘I love you’ in the whole time we've been together. It's not like I can blame her, I’m not even sure she's capable of love.”  
Bridget: “That woman is capable of more love than most people I've ever met. If you can't open your eyes to see that, I feel sorry for you.”  
Car talk, Erica details her fall from bondage suspension, figures out Erica is actually married to Mark.  
Bridget returns to Franky’s house after dropping Erica off at home to talk to Franky. 

Bridget found Franky sitting on the couch in the most relaxed outfit she’d ever seen her in. She was clad in an oversized pair of sweatpants with bare feet and a white singlet covering her torso. Her long hair fell wildly around her face and down her back as she sat with her heels resting against the coffee table. The blonde quickly noticed that the broken glass had been disposed of in her absence. The brunette had even gone so far as to clean up their tea cups from the coffee table.  
“I must be a real good root if you’re back here again already,” she tried to joke, not even bothering to turn and face the womad  
Bridget calls Franky out for settling for someone who is not emotionally available.  
Franky: "What do you mean?"  
Bridget: "You know that she will never be fully yours, and that comforts you because you don't think you deserve it."  
Franky: "You should go now"  
Bridget: "You're not a bad person Franky, and you deserve to be loved for every part of you."  
Franky: "I'm not a good person."  
Bridget: "Well you're not a bad one either."  
Franky: "I've hurt people before. I've hurt you." she said with tears brimming in her emerald eyes.  
Franky tries to scare her away, Bridget away  
*************************************************************************************************************


End file.
